


Strangers and Squids

by CallipygianGoldfish



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Fluff, M/M, Plushies, demi!tony stark, superfluous use of plushies, toy shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 14:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5788735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallipygianGoldfish/pseuds/CallipygianGoldfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shrapnel, weird noodles, and stray plushy squids, Bucky's life is full of strange things. What's even stranger is his memory loss from an accident two years ago, which successfully removed all previous knowledge of who he was and where he came from. </p><p>When he comes across 'The Barnes Rescue and Rehabilitation Center for Bear Refugees and Lost Strays', he can't help but venture inside for some answers, and finds himself with more questions than before...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I dream of running a toy mending shop in New York, but since I'm not a millionaire, I'll stick with fiction. Thank you, soniclipstick, for suggesting awesome things, it sort of got out of hand, and since I have no medical knowledge, let's just pretend amnesia works like this, yes? :3

Subconsciously, James Barnes knows he's not really a James. There's just something missing, some more letters maybe, a middle name, or a story he doesn't know. Actually, there are quite a lot of stories he doesn't know, but the doctor says that's normal, and he might remember one day. 

One day, hah. He scoffs at that, he thinks he's more likely never to recover, but it's his name that's bugging him. Two years into being a sideshow for various student doctors and nurses, James has had enough of the reassurances and sorrys given to him. What's done is done, and even if he never finds out what happened to him before the war, he's going to have to live with it.

To set the scene, he'd need to start at the beginning with an IED, some shrapnel and a heck of a blow to the head. Waking up not even knowing his name was a bit of a shock, and James had spent months searching for any sign of recollection, memories, or a previous life inside his head. Pierce, his commander, had said no one recognized him or came forward, and that all James had on him at the time were his dog tags, pronouncing him as one James Buchanan Barnes. He's pretty sure he wasn't even meant to be on that mission, and there was definitely something dodgy going on, but he knows he shouldn’t ask any questions other than the essentials. 

His army documents list Brooklyn as home, an estranged sister as next of kin, and a sparse medical record, and so he returned to a place that he still doesn't know, with nothing but the wrong name to keep him company.

He decides quite soon after the accident that the best parts of memory loss are the new experiences. How else is he meant to decide whether he likes Chinese, Indian or Thai better, other than eating himself through every takeout near his apartment? There's even a decent classic fish and chip shop, which really shocked him. 

It's great- he's got an excuse to stuff himself with weird new things he can't remember eating, and occasionally he'll hand out cards, asking the staff to put them up on the notice boards, just in case someone recognizes his face or name. Through this method he's discovered so far that he adores prawn crackers, hates sweet and sour noodles, and has a variable relationship with hot curry paste. All are added to his book of discoveries and cataloged carefully to think about later.

As well as the food, there's the city itself. Gardens and streets he's never seen, stretching as far as he can walk, small but magnificent churches, and dozens of shops he can't remember stepping foot in. He thinks that he's probably never had a good sense of fashion, because surely he'd know what worked and what didn't by now? Staring at a rack of clothing only prompts him to pick out the cheapest and warmest, along with anything blue. 

The thrift shop he frequents is quite used to watching him stare at jumpers for what seems like hours, before buying all of them and hoping they'd fit. Sometimes they do, most of the time they're almost down to his knees, but he likes them. Plus, winter in New York gets cold, and something just tells him he needs to stock up on the warm things in life. 

One cold morning, he's jogging to his normal spot in the park for his running circuit when he spots a new display in one of his treasured thrift shops. There's an army style jacket which looks like it might fit, a red plushy squid with stuffing leaking from its stomach, and an old stone chess set with a pawn missing. He's just about to go and look at the jacket when he sees the price tag, and promptly backs quickly out of the doorway, because there's no way in hell that he's going to blow his entire month's meagre salary on a coat. He needs food, goddammit, even if it is only takeout, and paying rent is quite nice too. A while ago he'd added “spendthrift” to his list of known traits, and he wasn't going to stop being thrifty anytime soon.

Shaking his head, he's heading back to the park to continue his jog when he finds that his mind has wandered and he's in a completely different part of town. 

He also has no idea how to get back. 

It's slightly posher round here, everyone busily concentrating on getting elsewhere, but James thinks the river must be around somewhere, just hidden by flowerboxes and antique shops. There's a small side street next to him, and he wanders down, hoping to see a café or someone who's not so busy and can point him in the right direction, but instead finds only a shop and a vegetable stall.

Up close, the windows of the shop are crammed full of teddy bears and soft plushies, of all shapes and sizes, and at first James thinks that it's a toymaker's studio. Except these animals look worn and soft, with various bandages and tiny imperfections that are masterfully mended. 

He backs up to look above, and the sign (which wouldn't look out of place at an old cowboy saloon) proclaims the shop is “The Barnes Rescue and Rehabilitation Center”. The curling script underneath states that the rescuing is “For Bear Refugees and Lost Strays”, and James knows instantly he's going to take a look, even if it's only to ask about why it's the _Barnes_ Rescue Center. Sure, Barnes isn't exactly a rare surname, but it's worth a chance. Looking closer, he notices a sign in one of the windows, propped up under a large giraffe with an eye patch.

_“Repairs, Adoptions and Refugees Welcome”_

His mind jumps to the squid he's just seen, and he turns around to try and find his way back to the thrift store.

*

Twenty minutes later with a slightly bedraggled stuffed squid in a bag, James opens the door to the Center to find the walls crammed full of shelves, and every shelf with several occupants. He spots a walrus, a plushy Dalek, and some bizarrely colored rats, all with elegant cardboard tags around their necks detailing the battles that they'd been in. 

There's a blond man behind a curved counter in the middle of the room, intent on the small plushy in front of him and sticking his tongue out adorably between his teeth. And oh gosh, there's another one for the notebook. Number 112- definitely not straight, because there are only a number of times James can call men cute before he realizes it's probably a habit and not a coincidence. 

“Good morning, I'll be with you in a sec,” the guy at the counter says, still concentrating on the tiny tail in front of him, brow furrowing but not detracting from his handsome features. James takes the chance to look behind the shop front to the various work stations; he can see a few washing and sewing machines, along with an assortment of threads, dyes, and fabric. Rather alarmingly, there's also a display next to him of several different size eyes, all staring balefully at him. James wrenches his gaze back from the creepy eyeballs to the man in front of him, who's gently moving the seams of the fabric together. He pins it shut and finally looks up. 

“How can I help?”

“Hi, yeah I was wondering what-” The man cuts James off with a gasp.

“Oh. My. God.” Eyes almost bulging out their sockets, the man stares at James like he's grown three heads and a few tentacles. “Bucky?!”

James has to check behind him for a second. “Uh, sorry dude, but what the hell is a Bucky?” All the colour drains out of the other man's face, and his mouth opens and closes as if he's trying to find the right words. After a few moments of watching him, James decides to leave, he's obviously upset the guy.

“Oookay, I'm going to go now? Sorry, I don't know what I've done, but you knew me and probably hated me, so I'm just gonna-”

“No, wait!” The man takes a deep breath and continues shakily, reluctant to look away from James for a second, as if he might disappear in front of him. “I know you. I mean, I used to know you. You don't remember me?” he asks incredulously, while James struggles to keep his cool.

“Retrograde amnesia, or so they tell me. I had an accident, 'bout two or three years ago. Woke up like this, no nerve feeling in my right arm and a hell of a headache.” He adds the last part mainly for comic relief- he's either going to scream or laugh, and he prefers the latter, to be honest. Somebody knows him. He might actually get some answers about his life before, who he was, what he was like, who he knew.

“Oh my god,” says the stranger weakly, before pulling himself together and nodding. “That would make sense, it's been two and a half years since you went missing. I'm Steve, by the way. But I didn't hate you, not in any way.”

James's curiosity gets the better of him, despite his more logical subconscious telling him to go slow. “Yeah? Why's that then? You knew me well? And who's Bucky?”

Steve smiles in disbelief, and gestures behind the counter. “You know, I never thought I'd be saying this to you, not after so long, but we might be more comfortable sat down for this. Would you like a drink?”

James follows Steve behind the counter and to a small table with a giant panda on it, fur stained in places, and an ear missing. “No, thanks, I'm fine. I guess that the Barnes on the front of the shop is actually to do with me then, and not me wishing it to be, if that makes sense?”

“Yep,” Steve reaches for two glasses of water and a jug. “That's you. And your middle name is Buchanan, I've only ever really known you as Bucky. Don't know the story behind that one though, sorry.”

“Bucky.” He mulls it over, rolling the words around in his head. “Booky. Buck. Buckeye. Bucky. Yeah, I like it. Better than James, anyway. But how'd you know me, then? You a friend?”

“Yeah, you never liked James, that's for sure. We've actually known each other since we were kids,” Steve frowns slightly, biting his lip. “There's no easy way to put this, I suppose, but uh, we were engaged.”

“WHAT?” Bucky can feel his sanity flying out the window. “What the ever loving fuck?! Engaged?” He, newly christened Bucky Barnes, a man with an unknown past, a bad fashion sense and a fuckload of questionable baggage, was once engaged to someone who looked like they'd just stepped off the red carpet. “You know what, I think I am going to have that drink you talked about please. Just something a bit stronger than water.”

Steve's lips start to turn up at the corners. “Would you like me to talk more about you? Us? Because truly, I never thought I'd see you again, and if you wanna stay, please do.”

Suddenly exhausted, Bucky feels like someone's punched the air out of him. “Yes. Please, I'd like to know.” He's heard people say that sometimes the truth hurts, but they've obviously never been amnesiacs.

“Well then, we'd better start at the beginning.” Steve smiles softly and begins to talk.


	2. Chapter 2

The back door of the shop clangs behind them, startling both of them out of their long conversation, and a whirlwind of another man dodges around the table and stuffs a rather large black bear in Steve's face. Steve blinks at it and looks up warily.

“Found it! I said I would, didn't I? I knew it was still on the shelf, hidden behind a really large tortoise, which, by the way Steve, you should get as well. Do we have a tortoise? I don't think we have a tortoise.” The goateed man turns to Bucky and presents the bear proudly. “Hey stranger, tell him, don't you think he's beautiful?”

Steve gently pushes the bear down. “Uh, Tony? This, really isn't a good time.”

“But Steve, look- he's got a poor paw.” Tony makes a face and waves the bear's foot at Steve, showing the large slash underneath.

Steve side-eyes the bear. “A poor... Paw? Like in the Jungle Book?”

“Exactly like in the Jungle Book,” Tony says with glee, while Bucky just watches Steve sigh.

“Please don’t start singing the 'Bare Necessities'.” 

“You’re no fun. We can call it Baghera, no hang on, the bear's Baloo isn't it?” Tony's eyes light up. “Please?”

“Maybe later, honey. It's just that now there's something a little more pressing than bear poor paws, Baloo can wait.” Bucky contemplates how it's truly a miracle how Steve doesn't sound sarcastic as he speaks, and he watches as Tony stuffs the toy out of sight in a large crate.

“Oh yes? You aren't the tax collector are you?” Tony directs his last words at Bucky, who shakes his head slowly.

“No. I was passing, and I rescued a squid.” He holds the bag up to show Tony, and extracts the plushy from it. “She's got a bit of stuffing coming out, but I thought you could fix her up?”

“Sure thing, let Steve have a look and that's cool. Is that the pressing thing, because I'm pretty positive my bear also counts as needing fixing up?”

“No.” Steve pushes the chair beside him towards Tony, who takes a seat, slightly bemused at Steve's seriousness. “Bucky, this is Tony, my boyfriend. Tony, meet Bucky.”

Tony blinks at them, pauses, then eyes Bucky critically. “Like, as in, Bucky the missing-in-action-for-three-years fiancé? Or as in the last fifteen guys you've interviewed because they've responded to your Facebook page?”

“As in, James Barnes,” Bucky says to Tony, already charmed by his manic ways. “I think we've established I'm the original, it's definitely me in the photos, but unfortunately I can't remember a thing, so who knows?”

“I dunno Rogers, I think your man was prettier. This one's got freckles.” Tony lifts an eyebrow at Bucky and grins. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Barnes. Can't tell you much about yourself, but I suppose Steve's been doing that for you.”

“Yeah, he has. About us, anyway, and what I was like. But not much about this place, where'd it come from, then?” Bucky looks around, but he has no recollection of a place like this from before. Then again, he didn't (and still doesn't, not really) know Steve, so that's pretty much a fucked up strategy for determining whether he knew a toyshop.

“We used to share this teddy bear, I think my mother gave it to us once. You called it my 'Bucky Bear', and said that it would watch over me when you went away.” Steve smiles, but there's not much humor in it. “You said, and I remember this so clearly 'cause you said it at the airport, you said to look after it, because you'd be back for him.”

“And I never was.” Bucky realizes then how hard this must be for Steve, who’s had a boyfriend come back from the dead that morning, but was still sitting there looking almost calm.

“Nope.” Exhaling deeply, Steve seems to shake himself for a moment, while Tony shifts on his seat to lean against Steve, placing a hand on his lower back. “So of course, I looked after that little bear, and he's even still here with me, see?” Steve points to a small dome on the counter, which was protecting a small bear with a blue uniform. “And I met Tony, who had all these fantastical ideas, one involving a rescue centre for plushies, I thought you might like it, and after a while I knew you probably weren't coming home.” 

“And you take in old toys?”

“Then fix them up and get other people to adopt them. Thrift shops are great, but there's always the feeling you're gonna get fleas from one, right?” Steve scratches the back of his head, as if the very mention of fleas had made him itch. “And it grew, we got more toys in and started selling more, and we're still here. I mean, I never gave up on you or anything, but I guess feelings always get weaker over time, and Tony helped me get over that. Grieve, if you want to use that word. Never liked it though, that assumes you died out there.”

“Some part of me did though,” Bucky adds cautiously. “I'm not the guy you remember Stevie, and all those things you said about us? Never happened to me. I don't think there's ever going to be a sudden surge in remembering, it's done and dusted.” There's a pause while they collect their own thoughts, and Steve's jaw sets with determination.

“Doesn't matter,” he says, decided in his choice. “So we learn together, that's all. Starting with the small stuff. You know bits about our past, what about now? What you doing with your life, Bucky?”

“Oh, bits and pieces,” Bucky says, hopefully vague enough to avoid having to talk about his stream of low paid, part-time mechanic jobs and his non-existent social life. “Tell me more about you two though, how'd you guys meet then?”

“I wore him down.” Tony answers quickly with a smirk. “At least, that's how he always tells it, I thought I might as well be first to say that line today. It's my building, so I saw him a lot, and it went from there.”

“Wait- you own a building?”

“Yeah, Stark Industries? Me and Pep rent out property and hope we get returns on them,” Tony says, gesturing to the ceiling. “Steve got his flat above with one condition- he had to use the shop for something underneath, and bam. Result. This is his idea, you know, he'll tell you I did stuff, which I'd like to take credit for, but it's all him.”

“You helped, idiot.” Steve says, and nudges Tony in the shoulder. “He kept bringing me abandoned toys out of thrift shops and alleyways, and then of course I'd have to wash and mend them. It's very calming.”

“I'd ask him for a booty call every time, and eventually he agreed to dinner,” Tony says happily, wiggling his eyebrows at Bucky. “Best dinner I've ever had.”

“Great.” Bucky smiles weakly. It occurs to him that he's possibly (no, definitely, they were _engaged_ ) had sex with Steve, and if that isn't slightly alarming, he doesn't know what is. Because two of the hottest men Bucky's ever seen are sat in front of him, and he can't remember shagging one of them. Not for the first, or even the hundredth time, he curses his brain. “Do you like curry?” He blurts it out without thinking, but Steve laughs, and closes his eyes for a second, taken back to a time long ago. 

“That's a funny story, right there. You love hot things, yeah?”

“I...” Bucky thinks back to all the times when he felt he shouldn't really have been buying spicy food, but he did it anyway. “Yes. Yes I do,” he says.

“I hate it. You used to argue with me for hours about trying new things, and yet it'd always end up being twice as hot as jalapeño peppers. At least, that's what it felt like. Always ate it though.” Steve reflects, just before an angry beeping erupts from one of the washing machines behind them.

“Oh shit! Sorry, be back in a min,” Steve leaps up to rescue whatever small animal has become stuck in the machine's filters, and Tony shakes his head.

“You know, you'd think he'd learn not to put the rodents in Philip, he gets a little impatient with anything smaller than a dachshund,” he says, watching as Steve tries to drain and unplug the spinner. “I'm not helping him, he can handle this one, I mended dear Phil not so long ago and this is how he repays me,” Tony tuts with a smile.

“You named the washing machines?” Bucky asks.

“Oh yeah. Don't you name inanimate objects?” Tony smirks, clearly expecting the answer to be no.

“Yes!” Bucky grins back, thinking about his former profession. “I'm a mechanic, that's what I did in the army- or at least what they tell me. Used to help out bomb disposal and general shit. It makes it so much easier when you call out for Paul and Gertrude instead of pistons two and three, I still do it now at the garage.”

“I know!” Tony looks amazed. “I mean, that's what I did at college, wasn't really allowed to continue with it because of the business and everything, but a hobby's a hobby right?”

“Totally.” Bucky agrees. “You more a bike man or a four wheeler?”

“Personally, Bugatti. But I know Steve's a bike guy, he's even got a Harley if you're interested?”

“Sure, but do you mean you _have_ a Bugatti, or that's your dream car? Because if it's the former, I might just have to break off my engagement to Steve and marry you instead.” 

Tony laughs. “Oh I like you. And yes, it's the former. Bit of an old model now though, but hey, I like the old ones.”

“Me too. And oh wow, I'm going to have to take a look at that sometime, if you don't mind?”

“Not at all,” Tony reaches out and grabs a spare scrap of paper and the shop's business card. “Here's my number, call when you want to come over, you can take her out for a drive if you want.”

“Keep talking like that and I'm yours forever.” Bucky takes the card, just as Steve returns, a plastic box of soggy plushies in tow.

“Sorry guys, crisis in the chinchilla section.” He dumps the box on the table and sits down with a sigh. “I love this job, but jeez, sometimes I wonder if anyone who buys these actually loves them at all.”

“'Course they do,” Tony answers as if this is a long term argument. “They're clean, cute and have a backstory- what else do you want from a soft toy?”

“Oh, I don't know.” Steve deflates and prods a soggy lump which might have once been a dry chinchilla. “Let's get them in the dryer and see what they'll do next.”

“Cool.” Tony hefts the box over, and Bucky knows he's just going to get in the way as the other two work. He pets the squid in his lap, who he decides to call Fiona, and then sits her on the table.

“I think I'm going to head off now guys, I'll leave Fiona here with you, and come back for her after you're done. That good?”

“Good with me, I think.” Steve smiles at him, and stretches his hand out in front of him. “I know we're strangers, but I hope I didn't freak you out too much?”

“Not at all. Well, only a little bit.” Bucky smiles back and shakes his hand. Tony looks on, suddenly pensive and almost wary of the scene in front of him.

“So, you two are gonna go do something now, right? Like date, or whatever?”

Steve stares at Tony, not understanding for a moment, before dropping Bucky's hand and gripping Tony by the shoulders. “Tony, what the hell? Are you dumping me?”

“No! Never, I just thought you'd want to-”

“You're my boyfriend!”

“I don't mind sharing,” Tony says nonchalantly, clearly uncomfortable but still hiding it carefully. “You two can do whatever the hell you want, I mean, hell, your ex returns from the dead and doesn't remember a thing? There's no way I can compete with that, Rogers, and I don't particularly want to. You two are pretty much perfect together.” Tony moves away and gently pecks Steve on the cheek before gathering his bag.

“Bullshit.” Steve grabs Tony by the arm and pulls him back to stand close to him. “All this time and you still don't believe how much I care for you? Jackass.”

“Maybe I am a jackass, ever thought about that, Steve?” Tony narrows his eyes at him and Steve glares back.

“Look, I don't wanna cause any trouble, I'm perfectly happy being a friend, yeah?” Bucky says, amused at their silent staring contest. “I'll be back later for Fiona, when do you think would be good?”

“Friday.” Tony answers, not breaking eye contact with Steve. “Come by Friday, we'll see what we can do.”

“Thanks. Look after her for me.” Bucky backs away slowly, leaving Fiona on the table with the panda. He hopes he'll see her again, he's grown attached to the damn squid.


	3. Chapter 3

On Friday, Bucky debates going back. He knows he should at least try to return, because to hell with it, Steve was his fucking _fiancé_ for god's sake. But he knows that him being alive rocks the boat in more than one way, and the last thing he wants to do is cause Steve more pain by prompting Tony to leave. Tony seems like a nice guy, fun to talk to certainly, as well as being remarkably charming, and he has a fricking Bugatti; Bucky doesn't want to hurt him. 

Then he thinks about Fiona, left alone and possibly destined for a life on the shelf if he doesn’t return, and he goes back to the shop.

It's empty when he gets there, then Tony appears from under the counter and nods at him.

“Hey stranger. Steve's around, in the back I think, if you want him.”

“Hi Tony.” Bucky approaches the counter and pokes at the newly fluffy chinchilla on display. “You got him dry then?”

“Ah, yeah.” Tony flicks the plushy on the ear. “Due to his slight fur problem, I decided he was called Edward and had previously been shaved in the night by a rabid leopard with a cut-throat razor. Unfortunately, Steve thinks that’s a little too unrealistic, so now he's Edward the chinchilla who fought a bear and escaped with only a bit of fluff missing. I personally think mine's better, but hey, Edward's a war hero now.”

“Sounds good to me.” Bucky scans some leaflets on the counter, and starts to talk to Tony about the shop and their various clients. Tony tells him about one red-headed woman that week who had brought in three large crates of slightly musty plushies, all in return for an adopted small hawk they’d called Clint. They think she might have given the hawk away by accident, and they're both still chatting away when Steve arrives.

“Hi Bucky, nice to see you again,” he says, shoving a load of cardboard under the counter. He straightens up, and smiles at Bucky. “You know, I still haven't got used to the fact you're alive- it's fantastic but still strangely unbelievable. As if someone's gonna come in saying 'surprise! You've actually been a coma for the last few days!'” He shakes his head and crosses his arms, shirt straining to keep up with his biceps.

“Believe me man, I'm planning on staying around for a long time to come,” Bucky says, trying not to stare at the muscle outlines on Steve's chest and arms. “How's Fiona then?”

“I uh, haven't actually got round to Fiona yet, I'm sorry. We've just had things to talk about.” Steve looks sheepishly at Tony, who rolls his eyes.

“He means she's going to take a while, he's procrastinating,” he explains to Bucky. “Stop posing for the man, Rogers, you're doing it again.”

“I am not! And I'm not procrastinating either, she's just going to take a bit longer than anticipated.”

Bucky gasps theatrically. “You mean her beautiful tentacles've still got ouchie wouchies? I'm hurt, guys, I thought she was safe with you.”

“Oh she is, don't worry, you can see her if you want?” asks Steve.

“Nah, I'm good, don't worry about it.” Bucky says. “Wouldn't mind a cup of something though, if it's going?”

“Sure, coffee good? It's been a bit crazy here, along with other things happening.” Steve beckons to the back of the shop, and Tony and Bucky follow him. Having set the coffee machine brewing, Steve continues to talk. “I've been thinking over what's happened, and generally going about it the wrong way, I guess. Tony helped me to work over everything, and since he's the one sane one here, I should apparently listen to him.”

Tony simply rolls his eyes again, as if Steve is reciting this from memory. “Conveniently took the words straight out my mouth there, Rogers.”

“Righht,” Bucky drawls, purposefully ignoring Steve's ramblings and instead focusing on the coffee in front of him. “So was there actually any reason for me to come in today, or?” He leaves the question open, and Tony and Steve glance at each other before looking back at Bucky.

“Well, we do need a new shop hand, you any good with a needle? No, actually, don't answer that, we'll get distracted.” Tony shakes his head. “We wanted to ask you something.”

Bucky is naturally suspicious. “Oh yeah? What sort of thing? Anything I can help with, 'cause I can't sew, but I think I could learn?” He supposes that the benefits of having no working pain receptors in his right hand means no needle pricks, but then again, everything comes at a price.

“Maybe later, yeah. At the moment we’re wondering if you'd like to...” Steve trails off and frowns. “Ah. I'm really not used to this, sorry. Been a while. We'd like you to come to dinner with us. I can't promise anything, but I'd love to get to know you again.”

“And so would I.” Tony adds. “I mean, I've heard quite a lot about you, but never _from_ you. Some of it might be quite different, and plus, I've still got to show you my Bugatti.” He raises his eyebrows at Bucky and slides an arm around Steve's waist, who himself just smiles.

“Sure,” Bucky says, thinking it over. It'd be nice to talk to people other than his therapist and the receptionist at his gym, and if Fiona was going to take longer than he expected, then he might as well get the most out of it. “Tomorrow night or something?”

A big grin stretches over Steve's face. “Brilliant! Do you want us to pick you up, or meet there?”

“Uh, where do you wanna eat? I mean, there's a great Chinese takeout with a tiny restaurant near where I live? I've only ever seen like, three cockroaches.”

Steve’s grin freezes on his face. “Ah. Well that's lovely, normally I'd love to, but maybe not for a first date, you know?” he says carefully.

Wait. 

Shit.

“Hang on a sec.” Bucky looks again at Steve's expectant face, and Tony's little smirk. “You don't mean date as in, let's get food and chat about cuddly toys right? You mean romantic style date, don't you?”

“Yep,” Tony nods sagely. “Told you he'd think it was totally innocent, I don't care what you say Steve, you've got the dirtiest mind here.”

“Woah, okay stop,” Bucky's mind screeches to a halt and falls head over heels. “You're all totally crazy, why the fuck would you want to do that? You're literally the perfect couple?” His brain supplies unhelpfully a thousand and one ways he'd fuck them both up, and not in the good way, but he tries his best to ignore it. 

“And yet we're still proposing it. Imagine that.” Tony crosses over to Bucky and pats Steve on the shoulder as he goes. “We're not that perfect, and there's always a chance we'll crash and burn, but we're prepared to take that chance. Believe me, we’ve talked it over quite thoroughly.”

“Think of it like something we didn't know we needed,” Steve adds. “It's only an invitation, you're not expected to marry us tomorrow.”

“See Rogers, you are good with words,” Tony says approvingly.

“Okay, but even if that's true, how do you know I'm interested and not going to go screaming out the door, telling everyone never to step foot in here again?” Bucky wonders silently if they proposition every guy who comes in, then thinks that if that were true, he'd be joining a harem.

“Unless the accident changed something, I'm fairly positive you're at least bi, maybe even pansexual.” Steve says. “Granted, that was a pretty long time ago, but hey, you'd probably already have left by now if you were going to.”

“Maybe,” Bucky admits, somewhat grudgingly. “Steve, I hardly know you, and I'm well aware that's weird, but it's true. And Tony, you seem like a really swell guy. If you didn't already have Steve, of course I'd be chatting you up! But it's only been two years, I'm still trying to remember whether I like spinach for god's sake, let alone threesomes.” Bucky doesn't mean to sound crude, but that's the only way he can put it. He can always blame it on the brain injury, he guesses, along with other things like conveniently forgetting to take out his trash.

“You don't like spinach,” Tony supplies helpfully. “Steve always moans about the fact he could never get you to eat it.”

“Thanks, but I still wanna find these things out, y'know? Things might've changed, I mean, I've heard of brain injury patients waking up and speaking French,” Bucky thinks that that might be the weirdest superpower ever, but then again he woke up with no memories and not much feeling in his right arm, so he can't judge. “So you never know, I might like spinach.”

“In that case, find these things out with us,” Steve looks straight at Bucky. “I can't say I'll always remember you're different, and I don't think I can exactly erase my memories of you from before. But we can try, yeah?”

“If you really don't want to, we understand. It's a lot to take in, believe me when I say I know what it's like to have your world turned upside down in a second,” Tony looks away for a second, and Bucky wonders if there's more going on behind the man than he lets on. Typical- of all the men in New York, Bucky gets to fall for the two most emotionally stunted ones out there.

“Supposing I did find this appealing. Suppose we went for dinner, and you hated every minute of it. What then, huh, smartass?” Bucky says to Tony, fully aware that he's the one who he should be asking if he wants this. Steve, he already knows Steve is on board whatever happens.

Tony considers it. “Then we'd all know that it probably wouldn't work out. Wouldn't matter, we can be civil and still be friends, I'm very good at that part actually. But I think it'd be fine, you're hot and nice enough to be worth a chance, yeah? Unless you kill puppies in your spare time, in which case, sorry, but I'm outta here.”

Bucky laughs, feeling like it's the first time for a while that he's let go of the tension and weight around his shoulders. “No puppies drowned so far on my watch, hopefully never.”

“That’s good then, one less thing to worry about,” Steve says, eyes twinkling. Humming to himself, he shoots a glance at Tony. “Bucky, if you’re not entirely convinced this could work, we can always test it out?”

For a moment the other two men stare at him, before Tony’s eyes light up. “Oh god yes, why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’re a donkey?” Steve suggests.

“Agreed. Totally a donkey.”

Bucky says nothing and wonders if they know they’re both giving each other the largest cow eyes Bucky’s ever seen. Then they turn and direct those soulful eyes at Bucky, and he’s helpless to do anything other than try to remember how to breathe.

“Hey Barnes?” Tony asks as he stands up and steps into the gap between Bucky’s legs. “Please don’t kill me for doing this, yeah? I rather like my face.” With that, he leans down and presses his lips quickly to Bucky’s, as Steve watches with a lopsided grin. Bucky’s frozen for a second, before Tony’s hand comes up to cup his jaw and suddenly it all makes so much more sense. 

With a lapful of an enthusiastic Tony, Bucky admits to himself it’s been a while since he’s felt this way, and although he’s not sure how it’s all going to work out, he can certainly try. They finally break apart, both breathing heavily, and Tony brushes a lock of hair out of Bucky’s face where it had fallen from his bun. 

“Well.” The ability to string a sentence together has obviously been erased from Bucky’s mind, but he doesn’t particularly care.

“I’d say that was a success, right?” Tony says to Steve.

Steve just nods. “Mhhmm.”

“Aw honey, did we break you?” Winking at Steve, Tony slings an arm over Bucky’s shoulders, still sat on his lap as Steve stares at them both with wide eyes.

“Little bit, yeah.” Steve says. “Like, in the best way though, definitely.”

Bucky takes a deep breath. “So you're seriously considering this?”

“Why not?” Steve answers for both him and Tony. “I love Tony, and I know I could love you again, even if you are a completely different person. Tony's well... Tony?”

“Not fussed,” he finishes with a smirk. “Seriously Barnes, I learn to like people, it's a slow process, normally takes a few months. Once I do though, I'm never letting go, and judging by your lips, I think I could learn to love you too. You know, if you wanted.”

And when faced with that, how exactly can Bucky say no? “Okay then, dinner it is.”

*

Six months later, Bucky comes to work one morning to find Steve and Tony elbowing each other shamelessly, before they present him with a small ribboned parcel on the shop counter. Unwrapping it slowly, Bucky finds Fiona sat proudly on the paper, stitched up and as good as new with a tag around her neck, reading:

_To Bucky,_

_My name's Fiona and I had a bit of a scrap with a whale, which left me a bit under the weather. But your boyfriends helped me, and thought you might appreciate a little anniversary gift for being patient, and to say thank you for sticking with them, despite Steve’s general refusal to eat anything spicier than mayonnaise._

_Love, Us._

**Author's Note:**

> Aaand we're done! Thank you so much for reading, if you liked it, comments are always greatly appreciated :) Come visit me on tumblr? My username is exactly the same, callipygiangoldfish.tumblr.com :D


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